


Nothing Gay ever Happens to the Kennedys

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Clone High
Genre: Gay Panic, Hair-pulling, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Voyeurism, M/M, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Jfk hasn't had someone to help with his hair for a while. Thankfully Ponce is here to help him with the growth. Also whats in his PANTS. (Call him pants dé León)
Relationships: JFK/Ponce "Poncey" de León (Clone High)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	Nothing Gay ever Happens to the Kennedys

**Author's Note:**

> One bitch knows EXACTLY who this is for. Everyone else, witness this disaster.

“Aye, Jackie boy. You uh, doin’ good up there?”

“Totally. Why do you ask?”

“Because you just bumped into the lockers.”

JFK pushed his hair up, and sighed. So THAT’S what he hit. Ponce chuckled as he gave him a small pull away from the lockers, trying to keep him from getting hit again.

“Why IS your hair so long, anyway?”

“My er uh, dad usually cuts it around this time, but they went on vacation.”

“Without you?”

“It was a romance thing. Besides, no one wants to er, hear their dads getting it on, Ponsie.”

“I can get behind that.”

“BECAUSE THEY’RE GAY-BOBBY!”

JFK bumped into a pole this time, rubbing his face through his mat of hair. Ponce decided to hold his arm the entire time, at least to get him out of the crowded spot.

“You never learned how to handle your hair?”

“I can keep it together, but my er uh, dad took all my hair products.”

“Isn’t your dad balding?”

“They both are, but they’re kinda in denial about it.”

Ponce pulled him away from the running bull that was Genghis Khan, trying to beat his group of nerds back home.

“I got hair bands, you could just tie it up until your folks get back.”

“And look like some kinda FRUIT? No thank you! I’m just er uh, gonna get a seeing eye dog.”

“You can just get that?”

“Well I mean, any dog does the trick right?”

“Jackie, no-”

Ponce sighed. He loved his boy here, they were absolute buds, two peas in a pod, but god was he stupid sometimes. Ponce stopped them both, turning to look at his house. He COULD just drop him off, go home, dig into that box of chocolates he had been eyeing since he bought them (That red velvet truffle was really calling out to him), but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not to his boy here. He gave his arm a light tug.

“We’re out your house big guy.”

“Really? Aw, thanks Ponce, I’ll see ya-”

“Let me do your hair, yeah?”

“What?”

JFK turned his head towards the direction of his voice, making the smaller man sigh.

“I do my hair all the time, my old man showed me how to. Let me help you out here.”

JFK thought it over for a moment (Ponce could tell by the way he scratched at his left tit. Don’t ask him why this was a thing), before shrugging.

“Sure. Two bros hanging out. I got plenty of snacks. You just gotta promise me somethin’ first.”

“What’s that?”

“Be gentle on the do. Aside from the ol’ beanpole, it's er uh, kinda my best feature.”

“...Just walk, I’m helping you up the stairs.”

\--------------------------------------------------

JFK stood in the doorway as Ponce closed the door behind them.

“Wait here, Imma head to your bathroom and get some stuff. You cool sitting on the floor here?”

“In front of the TV? Yeah I can do that.”

He stood there as he heard Ponce leave. JFK couldn’t see anything with his classic Kennedy locks, but he could tell Ponce wasn’t annoyed with helping him here. That’s what he liked about Ponsie, always having his back, and always being just a great guy. It was kinda nice honestly, just him and his buddy at his place, no one to bug them. He loved his two gay dads to bits, but Wally always treated Ponce a bit differently than his other guy friends. He’d always call him ‘pumpkin’ or ‘hun bun’, and it was humiliating. He used the same kinda names for the dames, and it was pretty damn clear that he shipped them together (well that and he actually said this, word for word pretty much). It was stupid, the way they waved at him, the way he’d keep trying to snag pictures of them, everything. Hell, he remembered one time, Wally brought some cookies in, and pinched Ponce’s cheek, like he was his freakin’ date or something. Like he’d be into a dude like that, especially Po-

“Got the stuff. You’re right, your dads picked that place clean. But thankfully, I don’t need too much. Sit down in front of me, the couch is good enough for me. Careful, lemme help ya.”

Ponce held his hand as he carefully helped him sit down, behind the coffee table, and in front of the sofa. JFK couldn’t help but chuckle as soon as his butt hit the towel Ponce set down for him. There was just something nice about this, it was the same kinda bonding they’d get from a good ol’ littering. JFK heard some stuff clinking behind him, before he heard ponce sigh.

“You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. If anyone’s gonna mess with this, gonna be you, Ponsie.”

“Thanks man, in a weird way, that’s kinda touching-”

“Aye, touchin’ is for dames!”

He could feel Ponce roll his eyes as he got started. JFK slightly tensed at feeling the other’s fingers at his neck. That felt...weird. He had only ever had girls touching him there. Aside from his dad, no dude touched at his neck like that. Not being able to see it, feeling it at the sensitive spot that was his neck, it was weird, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Let’s just do this. I know I can at least cut enough off to help you see.”

Ponce grabbed a firstfull of that long, brown hair, kneading it between his fingers. Ponce was clearly trying to get his head around this project, but it felt like something else. It felt like he was TRYING to rub at his scalp, trying to get a good, firm feel of him.  
Maybe he DID like this.

“Now, you’re gonna hear some snipping, don’t panic, okay?”

JFK gave a thumbs up, struggling to use his voice at the moment. Ponce lightly pulled at a lock of hair, trying to separate it from the rest of the mess. It was weird, JFK could feel his locks as he coiled it around his nimble fingers. JFK found himself missing the feeling once the hair was cut. It was a slow, steady cycle, feeling the fingers, snip, fingers, snip. Occasionally, his warm digits would graze across his neck, and sometimes he’d feel his hand brush hair off of his shoulders, and even occasionally getting it off of his chest. It made his body feel soft, comfy. So much so he found his head leaning back into the other’s lap. He felt the hand stop for a moment, before it brushed against his face, holding the hair enough to give him a close up of Ponce’s face.

“Take it you like getting your hair did, huh Jackie boy?”

He shouldn’t have felt a rush of heat go through his cheeks at how he said that. And he definitely should NOT feel the rush to his pecker when Ponce gave his cheek a light smack. He gave the smallest nod he’d ever given, before Ponce chuckled.

“Let’s get this part clipped off, mainly so you can see.”

JFK felt a ball of nerves form in his stomach when Ponce just snipped the bunch he was holding, as if he was just cutting through paper.

“That was a LOT of hair, Ponsie.”

“You HAVE a lot of hair, man. Trust me, I got you covered.”

While he could see now, this didn’t negate the feelings. Snip, pull, snip, pull. JFK swore every pull of a lock was harder than the last one, and it really did feel good. Usually broads made him feel this kinda good. There was a spritz of hairspray, before another snip, another pull. Another hand on his cheek, making him turn, another firm swat at his chest. Ponce wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle. He was firm, he was steady, he was so sure of himself. It’s why he REALLY liked him.

“Almost done, Jackie. How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine, fine. How long has it been? Feels only like er uh, five minutes.”

“It’s actually been almost thirty. I’m trying to make sure it looks even.”

Ponce firmly held onto his chin, mumbling for him to sit still, and JFK felt his hair stand on end. He was right next to his face. So focused, biting on his bottom lip, steady breath lightly brushing up the side of his face. It’d be so simple. So easy to just lean forward and-

“And we’re done!”

As quickly as the thought came, it left, as Ponce pushed himself away. He pulled out a small mirror from his coat pocket, and handed it to Kennedy. Kennedy gave himself a look over, and thanked uncle Sam that it wasn’t like the time Carl did his hair. It was even, and while he had a BIT of a sideburn thing going on, it was pretty much on point.

“Aye, not bad Ponsie! Why the burns, though?”

“Figured It’d be a surprise for your folks once they got home, see what happens next time they don’t leave some hair stuff for you.”

They both shared a fist bump, before Ponsie started dusting him off some more, trying to keep it within the towel’s range. JFK gave himself another look over, before he felt the other’s chin on his shoulder.

“And Jackie, you need to be more open man. Way more into asking me for stuff you need.”

“It’s just hair, Ponce.”

“I didn’t mean that, Jackie.”

He pointed downstairs, and JFK nearly choked on his own spit. He had been at full swing, and didn’t even notice. He had no clue how, he looked ready to break the damn zipper. He quickly crossed his legs, lightly swearing. Ponce raised a brow at him, and he felt just. Weird.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“Jackie, Jackie. Relax. It ain’t weird.”

Ponce wrapped an arm around him, holding a smirk around his lips.

“You’re being open, Jackie. And I’m open too.”

Suddenly, Ponce leaned forward, and pressed his lips against his. JFK shouldn’t like this. Shouldn’t like the feel of the scruffy face against his, shouldn’t like the thought of a dude’s tongue on his own. He nearly jumped once he suddenly felt the bulge was cupped by the other’s hand, giving it a firm, good squeeze. Ponce chuckled once he pulled away, and JFK knew he was making some stupid face. Ponce wasted no time, pulling his zipper down, and letting his cock free. Ponce raised a brow as he held onto his girth, slowly stroking it.

“I thought I was just imagining you NOT wearing underwear. Why?”

JFK paused for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his best friend ever, was currently giving him a handjob. 

“I...sometimes can’t wait till I get home. They happen sometimes during er uh, class and I just...you know.”

Ponce seemed confused, till he snorted, nearly flipping shit.

“You jerk off in class?”

“Only on Tuesdays.”

Ponce looked like he wanted to pry further, before deciding this eager, thick cock was far more important. Ponce moved from his spot on the couch, to right on the other’s lap. He casually brushed off some more hair from his chest as he started to grind over the other’s cock. JFK wanted to push him off, but his hands worked on their own; keeping them gripped to the couch, and letting him use his poor body. JFK refused to look at him right in his eyes, but Ponce refused to let him off that easily. He pulled his chin to face him, and gave him a firm pat on his cheek.

“Come on, Jackie Boy, look at me.”

He hesitated, but he obeyed, much to the other’s clear glee.

“Aye, there we go. You act like you don’t like it when I call you that. You like Jackie Boy don’t you?”

Ponce was ruthless on his throbbing cock; hands around his neck to help his balance, and hips pushing into his harshly.

“I wonder…”

Ponce dug his hands into his hair, fingers firmly into his scalp, and he pressed himself fully against his cock. The way he said his words. The way he held him so possessively, it was too much for poor JFK. His next words were enough to kill him.

“What if I call you ‘MY boy’?”

JFK didn’t remember the last time he came that hard. Before he knew it, he was swearing underneath his breath, shooting his load all over his buddies pants, and his jacket, like he was some twenty dollar dame. Ponce sat up, chuckling as he saw how much mess came out of him.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Why don’t we get that hair messy again, huh?”

With another cheek smack, he gestured to the stairs.

“Get up there, Jackie.”

He got off of him, and JFK was moving, not processing what had just happened. As he walked away, he felt a hard smack to his thick, presidential buns.

“Yeah, I’m not done with you. At all."

\---------------------------------

JFK lightly groaned as he woke up. He was in his bed, totally nude. It was night time, given how the street lights were on, and everything else was dark. JFK groaned as he rubbed his head, trying to wake up. He sat up a bit, before seeing a passed out Ponce. Now you would look at this situation and think ‘wow, he’s gonna flip shit’. You’d be right, if it weren’t for the fact that they saw his dad’s car pull in the driveway. His ass may be sore, and his nips maybe hard, but damn if he was gonna be caught in bed with a dude. He practically shoved Ponce out of bed, making him yelp. He sat up from the floor, giving JFK a ‘wtf’ look, before he recognized the look of panic. They both scurried out of the room, as if they had somehow rehearsed this, struggling to fit whatever clothes they had on. Getting changed while running down the stairs wasn’t easy in the slightest. 

“Back door, back door!”

JFK tried to guide him to the back, the second their feet hit the last step, before the door swung open. Wally stood there, hand on the doorknob, looking at his son and his best friend. Both of their hair completely tossed about, clothes either askew or on their hands, and a long trail of bite marks across their necks. There was a moment of silence, before Wally turned to the door, yelling outside to Carl.

“CARL, YOU OWE ME FIFTY DOLLARS!”

“WHAT?! SERIOUSLY?! HOLD UP I’M COMING INSIDE!”

“I mean that’s what I did.”

“PONCE-”

JFK didn’t have time to question just what the fuck was that about. He shoved him out the door, just before Carl saw him. JFK panted as he felt the slight relief, before looking back at his CLEARLY proud parents.

“My baby’s first time!”

“NOTHING HAPPENED.”

“YOU TOO GOOD FOR ANAL, BOY?!”

“Someone shoot me…”


End file.
